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But feeling the desperation in his kiss wipes away all that pain. And my body responds eagerly to him before I even have a chance to think about what this means. After weeks of conflict and inner turmoil, things suddenly feel right again.
And when Pyotr’s arm wraps around my waist to pull me across the console, I let him.
My ass hits the horn as I settle onto his lap, and we both freeze for a moment in shocked fear. Peering out into the night, we check to see if anyone’s coming to see what the noise is about, but no one does.
The tension breaks as Pyotr releases a throaty chuckle. Then he cranks his seat back, creating enough space for me to straddle him without waking the whole neighborhood.
Our lips clash together as we devour each other greedily, all that pent-up tension bursting from us with a newfound need.
“God, I fucking love kissing you,” he rasps, his fingers sliding beneath the back of my flannel shirt to splay across my bare skin.
I moan as my core tightens deliciously at the sound of his deep masculine voice. The temperature of the car spikes in a matter of seconds, and I rip my beanie off my head, tossing it aside haphazardly. My scarf follows a second later, and then Pyotr’s shoving my leather coat back over my shoulders and down my arms.
I help him, slipping free of the sleeves and throwing the fine Italian leather into the back. Next goes my shirt, which Pyotr doesn’t waste time unbuttoning. Instead, he takes either flap in his fingers and opens it with a violent yank.
I gasp as buttons fly everywhere, pinging against the inside of the car. “You ruined my shirt,” I pout angrily, though the move was so sexy I can’t bring myself to actually get mad.
Pyotr chuckles darkly and leans forward to trail kisses between my breasts. “I’ll pay someone to sew the buttons back on,” he promises between the provocative caress of his lips.
Fucking hell, he turns me on. I arch into him as he holds me close, lavishing my skin with affection. I slide my shirt down my arms, stripping until all that covers my top is a bra.
“You’re so beautiful,sokrovishche,” he murmurs, one hand traveling around from my back to travel up my stomach to my breasts.
My eyes flutter closed at the warmth that pools deep in my belly at his touch. But as soon as they do, soulless black eyes find me in the dark. My stomach drops, and I gasp, wrenching my eyes open as I suddenly tense.
Pyotr stills beneath me, one hand pausing at the clasp of my bra, the other resting over my heart. “Silvia?” he asks softly, bringing me back to him.
I meet his silver gaze and see the worry there.
I shake my head. “I’m okay,” I promise, though my voice shakes.
Pyotr hesitates, starting to withdraw his hand from my chest.
“No,” I insist, trapping his warm palm against my breast. “I want this,” I promise. “I just… need to slow down a bit.”
Conflict flickers across his face. “We can take it as slowly as you need.”
Andthatis what I love about this man. Confusing and mercurial as he might be, he has proven time and again that he wants to do right by me.
I nod, my heart thrumming with new anticipation as I lean forward to kiss him again. His hands fall gently onto my hips and stay there, relinquishing all control to me. It doesn’t take long for me to find my hunger for him once again. His lips are sinfully soft and supple, drawing from me a yearning that I only know one way to satiate.
Reaching behind my back, I unclasp my bra and let the straps fall from my shoulders. I toss it aside and sit back, settling on Pyotr’s lap so he can see me fully. His eyes drop to my taut nipples, and his eyelids flutter closed as he licks his lips and then swallows hard.
“Fuck, Silvia,” he groans, and his cock twitches beneath me, calling attention to his impressive erection.
His fingers grip my hips more firmly, as if it’s taking all his self-control to keep them there. My core tightens at the thought, and I reach down to take his hands and guide them slowly up my waist.
Pyotr’s eyes snap open as his fingertips graze across my flesh, raising goosebumps in their wake. And the pale gray fills me with warm confidence, replacing the lingering fear that had consumed me moments before.
I cover my breasts with his palms, firmly cupping them so he knows that’s where I want his hands. And I look deep into his eyes, reassuring my body that this is right. That I’m safe and with a man I want touching me more than anything.
Then I comb my fingers into his thick, dark locks, tipping his face back so I can kiss him once more. His hands palm me gently, his kneading touch tantalizingly tender, and I roll my hips in response as my clit throbs.
“Fffffuck,” Pyotr hisses, his cock stiffening further in his jeans.
“I want you, Pyotr,” I breathe against his lips.
“I want you so fucking bad, Princess,” he confirms.
